POEM 3 1 AND OTHER THOUGHT& »9»U(_“}(LLLIEIS'l‘.%l:l,.L) U L’( W T1? [151 ;II)I‘}_i\L'1.' US 01!‘ AI“%:[ . D A N I E L W E B S T E R. .. St.) rnmrh. of Dc-ity, how c:m:zId+;t t11m1- }-."i‘{"t thy "icy 11:m<.l zuul .~':»:%l+:z,y him, n‘1«:>nst«;,-,1‘ dc,-:.Lth .5‘ VI3'§f “[’]{.z\.]T]R,I:PI 13 I Ii I), A .I'..A'l';)\’ HI" fIVl.:\.SS,4\()‘¢1\lL7i$lil7L"fI;'$. B (7) T C) N : PUTHJSEHWD BY T£flEzXUTFHH& 1854. ' ~';:,* /‘(:2 «N1. it POEM AND OTHER THOUGHTS, SUGGESTED UPON THE DEATH OF HON. DANIEL WEBSTER. So 1:‘n'nc:1'1 of Dezzity, how co1..11(I.st; thr:n.1 L.iH,f't: thy iczy TH'L1‘1(,1 :;mc.1 slay’ him, 1,’;1101‘1sstar c1eut1.1 ? BY PRAIRIE ]’3TIl}’<fl[i), A LA.T)'Y (31? MA.Sf‘$1\.C!fI3lT'ljlTS%’l?£'1"I‘S. .‘ . ..,.~.....‘...-..-.M BOSTON: PUBLISTIED BY THE AU'l‘.HC)R. 1854. J""t-..-"'\./"'¢...../‘N . ,J"‘\...o*u.,.P- .-J"'n... w «P'-J"‘-.../'\./X Exxtorccl n.c:cur(1hIp: to Act; of Congrcszs in the yon.r18.’38, 13 MAIW WAIRJIL) WEI.L1\I/LN, In tho Glm-k’u Omoc: at’ the I)inr,riut. (!uurt.n£’ the Ibintx-iub of‘ I\'I‘:us:,4:Lchu.=mttvl~ w V“-t-‘.3.£»~""4I s:v1z1z1ao'r3rm-313 B‘! c. nmma, 41 ccmc: 12.1233 M,‘ , 130s'r0N. I , g [I I’ J O //,. UM 4, I ~,h,,V,/%%M»M.,,/M./,fl,,_H,.,H.,H 2,, //,_ POEM. Not for the leaf that falls without a sigh; Not for the flower that bows its head to die; Not for the tree, that Waves its leafless bough ;----- Oh ! not for these I’m filled with anguish now. Not for the bird that left its downy nest, VVhose gladsonie notes once cheered the :u1ourner’s breast; Not for the grass and herb that must depart ; --~— No, not for these hath sorrow veiled my heart 3 Oh 3 not for these I move my trembling pen : These all departm---but lo 3 they come again. But ’tis for him whose soul was truth and love, B1'igl1t star now slrirting; in you world above ; Thou whom a nation loves-m our hope, our stay, Lamp to our feet, and guide through all the way. To thy fond memory --- thou Whom saints admire, Spirit of light! I strike my trembling lyre! T Oh! thou immortal, whom we oft did scan, And paused, to find so much of God in man! May I, frail creature, lift my eyes to heaven, And pray that strength to me may now be given To utter forth, in strains of loudest praise, One lay to thee I’ve loved through half my days. Immortal Webster I teacher of my youth, Thy pen of fire hath taught me virtue, truth; By it 1’ve learned of freedom’s holy flame ; By it I’ve learned to love, to bless thy name. POEM. Then perish all ; ‘thy memory like a spell, Round Freedom’s altar shall forever dwell. But thou art gone! Thy place is vacant now; Oh 1 for to gaze once more upon thy thoughtful brow I Oh! for to hear thy rich toned voice again Send forth in eloquence some rapturous strain, And give new life to the more feeble mind; To teach the ignorant, and instruct the blind; To paint the path of error to theyoung, And bid them shun it, as a,viper’s tongue ; To show that right will overcome the wrong, And break her bands of sin, however stroncr. To teach our nation that a people free Must first of all things learn consistency, That union, peace, and love must ever flow From heart to heart, if we would freedom know; That Truth and Mercy, with their smiling band, Should scatter discord from our pleasant land; To live in union such as angels know, Was thine to live, to teach, while here below. Immortal one ! 0, be it ours to know; And teach thy virtues to mankind below ! But thou art gone! Columbia’s hills no more Shall feel thy foot-tread, as in days of yore ; No more upon their tops for thee shall wave The spangled banner -- emblem of the brave. No more for thee the festal board is spread, Nor garlands wave to deck thy honored head. No songs of joy shall break upon the air, Nor little children strew their flowers fair : POEM. No tiny hands for thee shall more be raised, Nor little prattlers join when thou art praised. Our nation mourns ; our hearts are veiled in gloom, Since thou hast Won him, 0 thou silent tomb I Not for the conquerer, slumbering on his bier; Not for the warrior —-— drop I pity’s tear ; Not for the man who storms the mighty flood, And Won his laurels by his brother’s blood, Whose sword was raised with an unyielding hand, And human gore o’erspread the verdant land. Not for the heart unmoved by pity’s call, But for the heart that felt and beat for all. Immortal Webster I who can sing thy praise, Or tell thy greatness in their simple lays Without a tear, Without a broken sigh, To think that such as thou must droop and die’? Immortal one 1 oh! as I think of thee, I’m lost in thought, that so much Deity Could dwell in man ; that in the mortal clod Could dwell so much the likeness of our God. Thou taught of God, thou knew thy maker’s Will, Thou’rt called of God a higher place to fill. Come then, my soul, and think upon thy Way. 0, feeble mortal, oh! What can I say? I turn aside, I start with mortal fear; The spirit of the mighty draweth near, N01: to reproach me for my simple lay, But cheers me on, his duty I obey. I move my pen, all praise to him I give, Whose voice I hear, ’tis me, I yet doth live. ‘POEM. “ I still live ! ”- oh I by those words of thine, Thy memory ’ll live throughout all coming time. The good will love them ; they will ever keep Them fresh in memory--——, o’er them often weep. Great man thou wert, and far above thy race, And now ’mid seraphs shines thy radiant face. Thousands, ten thousands are around thee now, A victor’s wreath adorns thy sainted brow. Far above myriads of the host of heaven, A seat beside thy God to thee is given. Angels, bright seraphs now around thee stand, Thou most admired of all that heavenly band. Oh 3 their Great Being! thou Eternal God, Who breathed thy spirit in a lifeless clod, And made it live, and move, and think and see, And feel itself a part of Deity ; Who calls, and lo I that spirit must return, And leave the casket slumberi.ng in the urn---— Oh! let thy spirit now on us descend, As we now mourn our lost, our honored friend. And as we weep, O, hear the broken sigh; Bow down, ye heavens, and hear a nation’s cry ! Like dew descending on the withered vine, Spirit of God! refresh these souls of thine. We mourn for one the earth did prize the most. We ask thy aid, 0, thou great God of hosts! Thou gave him--took him to thyself again; We kiss the rod, but feel the sharpest pain. Our hearts were centered; he, our country’s stay, When hope was brightest, called by God away. POEM. Great God of mercy, we thy aid implore! Guide thou our feet till all life’s toils are o’er. And may We follow our departed saint, With all his Virtues, 0, our hearts acquaint. May we lmow right, and may We understand The right to govern this our pleasant land; Remembering this, the spirit that has fled Will hover o’er us, though the body’s dead. Freedom’s bright star! 0, thou illustrious one~—--- Thou Wert of all, our nation’s proudest son. "Wave, leafless branches, Wave around the bed ‘Where sleeps the migltity and the honored dead! Blow soft, ye zephyrs l waft a sweet perfume Aroundhis bed, proud tenant of the tomb. Blow, autumn winds 1 for in your spirit-voice, There comes a song that. makes the heart rejoice, And fills the mind with hope’s refulgent ray, And tells of Worlds that feel no swift decay. Hark I from the tomb there comes a Voice to me, From lVIarshfield’s soil, Where dwelt the noble free; From the cold Walls around that noble one Whose life has ended, and whose Work is done. A voice that speaks more loud than rolling seas; A. voice that’s heard above the sweeping breeze; A voice that speaks of liberty and love, Of duty» here, of joys in lieaven above; A voice that tells of honor, deeds of fame, All, all embodied in our Webstei-’s name. Old Plymouth Rocks, where once thy voice was heard, Which made the Waves reply to every word; POEM. Wihere liberty and man’s best good was heard, At which the very Waters trembled, stirred, And echoed back, as, clashing on the shore, Liberty or death! now and for evermore. Proud Webster, in thy giant mind I see Far less of man, but more of Deity. But thou art gone ; and hearts no more will beat With joy ecstatic at thy approaching feet; No hands shall lift the starry banner high, And shout thy welcome to the vaulted sky. No more in halls of learning thou wilt stand Among the genius of thy native land. No more thy voice like mighty floods shall roll And bind, as with a chain, the human soul. That voice no more shall echo o’er the sea, And startle kings, at thoughts of liberty. That thoughtful brow, that eye, that noble form, All, all forever from our vision gone. 0, Weep, my country, drop the silent tear, For all thy hopes were borne upon that bier ! =3? 3% % =l@ =‘2(< >X= Nor would I close my feeble little song Without a Word of praise Where praise belongs. To her who lz'ves---who lives to mourn and weep, For him who sleeps the long, the long, long sleep. 0 woman! whose relationship in life Claimed the endearing tie of mother, Wife, Though deep the anguish of thy tender heart, When called with him, thy husband, for to part, For in that Word is centered all the love That’s felt on earth, or known in heaven above. fit antitru- POEM. May consolation now from heaven descend, And to thy mourning heart new courage lend; And give thee grace to bear without ajsigh, Until thou join thy loved one up on high. Sleep, holy dead! a nation’s hope and trust A voice comes forth from out that elumbering dust ‘ And stirs the life blood in our very veins, And bids us sing thy praise in highest strains. And when that morn shall dawn upon the tomb, Wlien light from Heaven shall break the silent gloom, Then shall that spirit that now lives. with God Return and animate that sluniberirig clod. ‘ Then shall that form come forth at Jesus’ call, More beautiful than man before his fall. The light again shall beam from out his eye, That form shall stand erect, no more to die. Then shall he live, no more a feeble clod, But man restored, proud image of his God. Blow, autumn winds, blow softly round the tomb; Let the still voice be heard from out its gloom ; Let Marshfield’s soi1,vvhere once the great man found A quiet home, be kept as hallowed ground. May every pil-grim, as he wanders there, By that cold tomb, lift up his voice in prayer, That these great truths which burn with kindling ray, Shall live and grow more bright,though worlds decay. Great scholar! thy country’s satay and pride ; How great her loss, and all the World’s beside. Proud of thy life, which to the world We give, Proud of thy death, which says, “I still live.” HYMN. THE NATION’S WAIL. Written November, 1852. O Almighty, Heavenly One 1 Hear our prayer ---~— thy will be done. Though our hearts are filledfwith grief, Thou, O God, can give relief. Mourn We now in sorrow sore ; Mourn as We ne’er mourned before. What to our hearts can solace give, Save this sweet sentence, “ I still live ? ” O, holy dead, these Words will live; Encouragement to us they ’ll give, To follow in the path thou trod-M Thou less of man, but more of God. When dark clouds are hovering near, Who will now disperse our fear ? Who in union hearts will bind ? Undiscoverable the mind. Our staff is broken; but thy rod Must lead us on, O, righteous God! Our country’s loss, great God repair, Heal bleeding hearts, and answer prayer. THOUGHTS, ETC. The wise, the talented, and the good have tuned their harps and touched the gentle chords in praise of the irn- mortal Webster ; and tliottgli feeble justice is all that will ever be done to the greatness of our country’s pride ;---- though no 1;o1igL1e is capable of ut.terin,g' half the praise of one so noble; though no pen is able to tell the glory that cleparted froin our land as that 1i,gl1,t Went out from .. that heaven~li1; eye; yet who can refrain from adding their I1"lll7.(:‘, to the goodly number of tributes which are so justly due the rne:m.ory of him who has been our teacher, our fatlier of learnirig, our country’s schoolrnaster? To hirn We owe our all for the exhaustless store of knowl- edge that has been diffused tlirougltiout our country and the world. And the inquiry may arise, Where are the giftecl ones that: are to pour forth their noble strains to the memory of one so beloved? Is it for the politician--— the brave, dauntless politician? Is it for the great and over» stocked rninds of the learned, the rich, and the popular men of our land ? Yes, it is 'fortl1ern., and for every intel- ligent being whose rnind was capable of app1'eciating that star of our country, by whose splendor and greatness We have thought hirn unequalled on earth. “By Whose great and powerful mind We have been led to think him so much of Deity itself, that he would never bow that noble form to the icy touch of the 1‘nonster-—--Death. It is for every ereature of intelligence, then to offer THOUGHTS,ETC. up a deserving tribute to the memory of one so deserving his country’s praise. The wise, the talented, the good, the rich, the poor---from the palace halls, where live the favored of earth’s children; from the low cot of the peasant, the poor but intelligen-t man, let come the loud songs of praise to the great man’s memory, who hath left his country so rich an inheritance. Though the tears dim the eye, and the voice trembles as it attempts to offer ‘praise, let the Words of the dead cheer thy heart, remem- bering that by carrying out those principles of right which were laid down from the highest good of our country, every breeze that fans your czlieek, and every gentle Zephyr that blows, Will bear upon their unseen wings the voice of him you inourn, and. his low soft voice will whisper in your ear, “I still live.” Wornen of America! to you and to your ch'i.ldre11 I ‘\Vt’)ulCl‘GttT11€3Stly appeal. Do you thi.nk you have met vvitli a loss by the death of so great a man as was Daniel ‘Webster ? Do you think it all the Work of the opposite sex to make mention of such a loss to our country ? The political field belongs to man, and as for us, we envy not the position one occupies therein. But we look not upon the innnortal Webster as upon one Whose whole interests were centered in the advancernent of political. glory. Not so. For while he labored unceasingly for his coun- try’s best good in that respect, he also labored for the advancement of every high and social principle which would add to the education of our children, and leave a lasting, a shining remembrance around the family hearth- stone. To you, then, daughters of America, you who are to train the young mind, and make it a bright and rHoUenrs,Erc. shining star, to you I call. If we credit the declaration which has come from the mouths of many of our great men, We must admit the fact that if ever our sons become “ great, and useful men, it willbe in great measure owing to the influence of their mothers. How often do We hear from those who are at tl1e head of our country, those great lights of our land, the simple, but truthful story of the fireside counsel, the early lessons of godliness, of morality and truth, the true principles of greatness which were instilled into their youthful minds at an earl.y period of life, when the heart was made tender by thoughts of purity, all of which had grown with their growth, and strengthened with their strength, until years had rvhitened the locks which were then raven, and all those good and cherished principles were attributed to the teachings of kind and dutiful mot.hers. Then shall we, who live and enjoy so much light, fail to teach our sons the true aims of life 9 Mother, as you Visit the spot where the dust of that great and noble man reposes; when you lead your little ones to that hallowed ground, reinember you have other and higher duties to perform than. in cherishing a recollection of the place and scenes around you. You have, or should have, nohler purposes in view, when you lead your timid boy to the cold tomb of our great and noble Webster‘. By that silent tomb you can make lasting impressions upon the young mind. You can recall to mind the history of the s1eeper’s early days, when, like your boy, he sported in childish innocence. You can follow up his life, from youth to age, with the most instructing and pleasing inci- dents; you may have yourself listened to that voice '6 THOUGHTS,ETO. 1: which, once heard, would never “be forgotten; and you i may have seen the fire of genius flash from that eye. You may have thought earth never claimed so noble a soul, or owned so proud a son ; his words may have pen»- etrated your soul ; his mighty mind may have led you to think him more than mortal ; yet you can look upon the tomb and tell the little one by your side where sleeps the mighty of earth. lVlothers, let the voice of the dead come forth from out that charnel house, and assure you of the importance of instilling wisdom into the hearts of your sons. VVho but a mother can do this Work ? Who can discharge such a duty more faithfully? Wl'1o but the mother, that has her child ever by her side, will be accountable for negligence ? a Pilgrim! as you journey to the last resting place of our country’s pride; as you pause before that tomb, to read the plain inscription; how will the recollections of past scenes come up before the mind, and the heart be pained at the thought of the tornb’s holding one so use- ful, so highly blessed above his fellow men I That never more he can walk the earth and converse with mortals ; that his glory has departed, thou.gh his memory lives. How deep the anguish of the human breast: to know such must die! Bright star of our nation! how many hearts were pained when thy work. was done I How many souls were veiled in gloom when death his signet upon it that thoughtful brow. The loud wail of our nation was heard across the mighty waters, and the united lamenta- tions of the old world served to show how great a man had fallen. I-Iow dark the night that settled down upon our land, when thelwatchman announced, “ Our star has THOUGI-I'J.‘S, ETC. set «—-—- our nation’s great and mighty son has given up the ghost!” Hovv deep was the anguish that filled every breast. Tears fell from eyes unused to weeping, and t tongues that never had said aught in the great man’s favor, were first to praise. ' O, thou great and illustrious man !---- thou who vvalked the earth, and found pleasure among the children of men ; thou who could move mighty men to see their errors, and startle tyrants with thy truth; thou who could chain the mind of Cicero, and make the ancient fathers of learn- ing tremble; thou who stood in halls of learning in our own happy land, and sent forth Words which run like the T Wind through. the land; thou who could move upon the minds of the people, and nerve them up to duty and ho-nor; thou, who, with a sympathetic look and a sen- tence of love could make the hearts of the brave throb with tender commotion: thou. who had a heart big with love for thy country’s good; thou who was touched with pity at the misfortunes of men, and Whose benevolence sent the poor smiling from thy door; thou whom we had thought to call the people’s ruler —-—- our Republi.c’s head -——-- thou art gone! One vvinter’s icy mantle has covered the earth, one season of birds and flowers has been en- joyed, one mid-sum1ner’s sun has shed its rays upon thy cold sepulchre, and the familiar scenes through which thou wert wont to roam have been veiled in sorrow. Another autumn has come; the season for the departure of all that is delightful in Nature’s garden. The birds have ceased to, sing; the flowers have bowed their heads to die. The unnumbered leaves are flying in the air, and falling upon the earth in Worthless heaps. a the sigh to escape, and the lips to move in prayer for the THOUGHTS,ETO. The season of sadness, of melancholy recollections has come, when the memory has brought to view the sad scenes of the last autumn, which filled a nation with the pang of Woe. One year ago, and how anxious did We wait to hear the answer, as our inquiry went forth, “ Does he yet live?” And when the messenger brought the summons of that sprit’s exit to a higher life ; when our ears heard, then our hearts, thougl1 sad, were cheered by that voice (Which never failed to give life to our feeble man) and the sentence, “ I still live! ” urges us on to duty. Will America ever call so noble a being her son again? Will not days, months, and years, as they roll away, bring to the mind his thousand virtues, and cause rich store of useful knowledge that has been and will be perpetuated to all coming generations? Forget to be, e’er thou forget the name of Daniel VVebster, O my country! The tombs of martyrs, the temples of kings, the sepulchres of the mighty ones of old, shall not be kept moresaered than thy resting place. Our own free "shores have been thy home, and in the heart of thy coun- try thy dust reposeth. The feet of other men, who have crossed the deep waters, will tread around thy tomb. The great and the noble of all lands will yearn to know thy resting place, and to drop a tear upon Marshfield’s soil. Digitization information for the Daniel Webster Pamphlet Project University Libraries University of Missouri——Columbia Local identifier web000 Digitization work performed by the University of Missouri Library Systems Office Capture information Date captured Scanner manufacturer Scanner model Optical resolution Color settings File types Source information Format Content type Derivatives — Access copy Compression Editing software Editing characteristics Resolution Color File types Notes 2004-2005 Minolta PS7000 600 dpi Unknown tiff Pamphlets Text with some images Uncompressed Adobe Photoshop 600 dpi Bitonal; images grayscale tiff Pages cropped and brightened Blank pages removed Property marks removed